“What is it?” I asked. It floated around the hull and continued it’s beeping. “What th—Hey Hudson, take a look at this.”

“Yeah, what is it, man?”

“This burn hole right here.” I pointed to where the ERD was pointing. “How do you suppose a lighting strike would do something like that?”

“I dunno,” Hudson shrugged.

“This was too precise,” I added. “Somehow, someone brought up a storm to create a cover, then fired some sort of weapon at my ship. They almost got away with it, too.”

“So who could control the weather?” the private asked.

“Storm could,” I answered. “I can’t see why she would be involved in an attack like this, though. I’ve heard that a Scottish weapons dealer has a weather dominator, but that seems pretty far fetched to me.”

Now's the time, Jon, when a bunch of scantily clad and extremely hot women with adequate mechanical skills would likely emerge from the shadows all around (as funky techno music plays in the background) and offer to repair your ship in exchange for a rocket ride to someplace, but no place in particular...